“Where’s the whipped cream, wench? And the strawberries and syrup?”
I roll my eyes. “Coming right up, sir.”
I turn before I can read his snarky response. After I retrieve the tub of whipped cream, the strawberries I cut up, and the bottle of syrup, I sink down into my chair beside him.
Edge raises a brow as he spoons far too much whipped topping onto his waffles. Gag me. I can’t stand the stuff. Then again, I’m the one who likes to eat peanut butter and jelly on mine, so I guess I shouldn’t say anything.
“You making coffee this morning?”
“I know you can smell it brewing,” I grumble. I can’t hold my mock annoyed look though, and I end up laughing.
Edge laughs too, his shoulders shaking gently. He turns to me and says, “How can you eat that with peanut butter and jelly? That’s disgusting.”
“Not as gross as whipped cream and coffee. I’m going to take that tub away from you so you can’t mix it in there. I’ve seen you do it.”
“We’re out of cream. What’s a guy supposed to do?” he says with a laugh.
“Drink it black like a real man.”
He just laughs again at that.
I take a bite of my waffle and sigh with happiness. I love this. All of it. This is everything I waited so long for. I don’t take any of our moments for granted. Not one. I suppose there’s probably time to forget how much I love having breakfast with Edge at my side, love our private jokes and the kisses he steals throughout the day. Okay, maybe I’ll get tired of the first two, but never the last. I think that I could grow to be an old woman and I still would never get tired of Edge’s dirty, heated words, the things he does to my body, everything he’s taught me. He’s sweet too, tempering all that heat with a measure of gentleness that I crave just as much as the dark pleasure he brings me.
“I can’t believe my dad did it,” I say cautiously. “Joined ranks with that club.”
Edge pops a strawberry into his mouth, whole, and chews hard. “I can’t believe Wraith actually agreed to get hitched to one of Viking’s daughters.”
“I’m glad you got us back. I mean, sitting there in a tiny little room all crammed up together with bags over our heads wasn’t any fun, but god… I can’t believe my dad did it.”
“The thing I’ve learned about your father,” Edge says carefully, his copper gaze locking with mine. “Is that he doesn’t do anything without a reason.”
“Oh, I can think of a few things.”
Edge tenses, and I quickly change the subject. It’s been almost two weeks since Leah and Christine and I were rescued. I couldn’t believe what happened in those few short hours we were held captive. I can’t even begin to imagine how it’s going to change Steel Riders. I don’t know if my dad can trust a band of men we know nothing about. That he knows nothing about. I guess time will tell, as they’re going to be a part of us in more ways than one.
While the guys are planning on taking Wraith and the other two men who will be marrying Viking’s daughters out for a combined last night of freedom, apparently us old ladies are getting together and throwing a shower for Wraith’s soon to be bride, Leena. Her two older sisters staunchly refused to participate. I can’t see the men having easy marriages. Marriages. Not just old ladies, they’re actually signing up for the real deal. I guess one can always hope that later, when things are better, maybe divorce will be acceptable.
“Stop. I can see those wheels working up there.”
I snap out of my thoughts when I see Edge’s lips moving. He smiles softly at me, a smile that he’s always saved just for me.
He’s still smiling when his head turns to the side and a line forms across his brow. I pause too, my waffle suspended in midair.
He doesn’t look concerned though. There are no protective instincts jumping in motion, no vein throbbing at his neck or pulse point pounding at his neck. I sit and study him, confused for a minute, until I feel the vibrations.
Bikes.
Lots of them, because it seems like the house is going to shake down around us. The glass in the kitchen window is even rattling.
“What the hell?” My waffle falls back to my plate. Edge and I both stand at the same time.
He wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me against his side automatically, and we both walk to the front door together.
At first, there isn’t anything, but we wait, and after a few minutes, the first bike rolls into view. I know that bike. A big chrome and black beast. A bike that I’ve ridden on hundreds of times over the course of my life.
My father’s bike.
The rest of the Riders pull up beside him, one bike after another, until the entire driveway and front yard and even the road is filled up with black leather and shining chrome, and rough, wild looking men.
